My favorite films of all time all share one quality: they can be studied deeply and have numerous theories applied to them, or you can shut your brain off and just enjoy the world of the film. And both styles of viewing are equally enjoyable. Miller’s Crossing is one of those films, making it one of my favorite Coen Brothers movies, possibly my overall favorite (I’ll post my ranking once I get to the end of their filmography in a few months). Most of the films in the Coen filmography can be viewed this way, but what sets Miller’s Crossing apart is that it almost dares you to analyze it.
“Jesus, Tom!”
The phrase “Jesus, Tom” is said eight times in the film (seven, if you’re watching the Criterion cut), along with a single utterance each for “Tom, Jesus,” and “Christ, Tom” along with countless variations of “Jesus” as an exclamation. It happens too many times to be ignored. Much like the focus on hats, it begs you to find meaning, even if the Coens don’t necessarily mean anything by it.
For the record, I don’t buy their bullshit in interviews when they claim most of their potentially symbolic elements are just random. But I also don’t like filmmakers flat out telling audiences what things mean, so good for them. There’s probably a more solid theory to be worked out with the hats along the lines of them representing order and control. But the hat stuff never interested me that much. Tom as Jesus on the other hand…
Like most theories applied to Coen films, this isn’t clear cut or perfect by any means. This is not a one to one story of Christ. But the dialogue and Tom’s sacrifice for Leo make it worth thinking about.
I don’t find Tom all that Christ-like beyond taking on other people’s problems and “saving” them. Instead, I like to think of Tom as Jesus if Jesus Christ was kind of a dick who didn’t give a shit. Tom is a bit of a drunken smartass asshole throughout the film, but you still root for him because he still seems better than those around him. It’s as if this world operates on a set course and only Tom’s actions can alter that course.
Tom is a selfless person, but not in a holy way. He’s self-destructive with his drinking and gambling, and though others offer to save him throughout the film, he insists on taking care of things himself, even if it means taking a beating or even dying.
So when Leo sets a course for destruction by protecting Bernie, Tom realizes he must ruin his relationship with Leo (and Verna) to save Leo. But he doesn’t do this in a kind savior way. He’s a dick about it, because it’s annoying to him. He knows there are beatings in the future, all because Leo fell in love.
When Leo pronounced his love for Verna, Tom knew he could not salvage his friendship. First off, he’s in a relationship of his own with Verna, which is bad enough. But he also wants Leo to be happy more than he wants happiness for himself.
You would think committing adultery would be enough to discredit a Jesus theory, but Tom is also a murderer. Killing Bernie might appear to be a cold-blooded moment of revenge for Tom, and it most likely is to a degree, but it’s also what saves Leo and Verna’s relationship. Tom knows there’s no going back to Verna after killing her brother. She’s now free to return to Leo, who Tom knew would always take her back because he’s a sap.
Between all the supposed or real double crosses and the affair and the murder, Tom has created an untenable situation. By the time the smoke clears, his actions have led to Leo being back on top with no real threats, but he can’t be a part of it. Like Jesus, now that his mission of salvation is complete, it’s time to move on.
Obviously, it’s easy to poke holes in this theory, but it’s fun to think about it when you’ve watched a movie a dozen times and want to add new meaning to it. I still prefer to let the music of the dialogue of Miller’s Crossing wash over me (it’s really hard not to ask people “What’s the rumpus?” after watching this) rather than do the homework of counting how many times a character says “Jesus.” And the Coens would probably utterly dismiss any comparison between Jesus and Tom. But they know what they’re doing when they put that phrase in the script so many times. It’s there for humor (especially when they have Steve Buscemi say it), but they also like laying little theory traps in their movies for dorks like me, and I’ll gladly take the bait from time to time. And other times, I’ll just “let it drift.” With the Coens, both options are great.
Random Thoughts / Favorite Quotes
It is absolutely insane that Jon Polito was 38 when they filmed this. I would've guessed 50 at the youngest. In fact, Gabriel Byrne was born six months earlier than Polito, yet Polito calls him “kid” multiple times. He’s an all time young old dude.
“Youse fancy pants, all of youse.”
“Friends is a mental state.”
J. E. Freeman is giving an all-time sneering performance in this.
I always liked the Vinny Vedecci skits on SNL in which Bill Hader as Vedecci would interview celebrities for his Italian talk show but the guests don’t speak Italian. Every skit would include a moment when Vedecci’s son, played by Bobby Moynihan would interrupt, dressed in an old-timey sailor outfit. He asks a question and the guest’s response makes him cry, and Vedecci has to calm him down with cigarettes and wine. It’s random as shit, unless you’ve seen Miller’s Crossing. Johnny Caspar’s son first appears in a sailor outfit, and later in the film Caspar hits him, causing him to have a crying fit (though he doesn’t give him a cigarette or wine). Hader, a known cinephile, clearly decided to pay homage to Caspar’s son in the Vedecci skit. He’s never acknowledged it in any interview that I could find, though Moynihan’s Wikipedia page states that the character is based on Caspar’s son, but there isn’t a citation for this. Either way, I think it’s pretty clear that this is the source of the SNL character. It’s just one of those great, random things Hader injected into his comedy.
Mike Starr really looks like his feelings are hurt after Tom hits him with the chair. His “Jesus, Tom,” is the best in the film, and it’s crazy that the Coens cut it out of the Criterion version of the film. I’m fine, I guess, with them “tightening things up” or whatever with these releases, but cutting that line baffles me.
“You got a lip on you. That’s all right. I don’t generally care for it. But that’s all right.”
“I forgive you.”
“I didn’t ask for that, and I don’t want it.”
This film presents the violence of gangster films so commonplace that it’s comedic. First, characters just treat it as part of the life, as evidenced by Tom and O’Doyle’s reaction to gunfire erupting during the raid on Caspar’s club. They don’t duck and cover; they just shrug it off as the typical bullshit you deal with in this world.
Then there’s the attempted hit on Leo, in which he’s granted infinite ammo when he retaliates. If the amount of ammo wasn’t a clear indicator of the humor, then the way the goon dies in the window should solidify it as he goes all herky-jerky and shoots a complete circle around himself (including his own toes). And there’s the Sam Raimi cameo with the twitching body and the ridiculous firepower in that scene which rivals something out of a Naked Gun movie.
The treatment of violence in Miller’s Crossing as both brutal and comic is one of the many reasons why I love it. The Coens have this rare ability to ride this line between sincere gangster noir and a parody of it. It’s a bit of having your cake and eating it, too, but why the fuck shouldn’t you eat cake if you have it? That saying is stupid as shit, as is the criticism it implies.